Follow Your Heart by Barbara Cartland Page B

well.”
    Della lowered her eyes and spoke humbly as one of the gypsies would.
    The Marquis did not speak, yet she knew by the twinkle in his eyes that he was laughing at her.
    â€˜I must be careful,’ she told herself. ‘He must not think I am anything other than one of Piramus’s gypsy band.’
    She had a sudden fear that if he suspected anything he might talk about her and in some unexpected way the Duke would guess where she had gone. He would then insist on her returning home so that she could meet Jason again.
    The idea seemed rather far–fetched, but equally she felt nervous and resolved to play her part with renewed vigour.
    They had ridden, when they were racing, a little out of their way and now they turned back to climb up towards the house.
    In front of the house there was a courtyard and then a green lawn stretching down to a lake. This was a natural lake, which was joined nearer the house by the artificial one with the fountain in its midst that Della had noticed before.
    Della looked around her, interested and intrigued by the house and its surroundings.
    â€œClare Court has been in my family since the reign of Henry VIII,” the Marquis explained as if she had asked him a question. “The old house was burned down in the reign of George III and rebuilt by the Adam brothers.”
    â€œThat is just what I thought, my Lord. They were such brilliant architects and their work is recognisable even at a distance.”
    Once again she caught herself being indiscreet. This was something a gypsy would never have said.
    The Marquis however made no comment. He only led the way to the back of the house where the stables were situated.
    One glance told Della that the stables were as up–to–date as those belonging to the Duke, and the Marquis’s horses, though not so many, easily rivalled those she had been riding at home.
    They walked from stall to stall with the Marquis explaining why he had bought each animal. He had been fortunate in finding several horses whose owners had simply not appreciated their value or recognised that they were unique.
    Della understood by the tone of his voice and the way he spoke how much his horses meant to him.
    It flashed through her mind that this was how a man should feel; that a man should value his assets and care and protect his things. Not like Jason, she thought, who had wasted his time and money with the type of women he had pursued in Paris and cared for no one but himself.
    As they reached the last stall with Della continuing to praise his horses, the Marquis turned to her.
    â€œNow you understand why my relatives think I am married to Juno who you have just become acquainted with. And I prefer my stallions to those gentlemen who expect me to play cards for high stakes at White’s!”
    Della laughed because it sounded so funny.
    â€œYou are right, of course, you are right, my Lord, and I only hope you are clever enough to resist the temptations and traps they will set for you from time to time.”
    â€œAlmost from day to day,” added the Marquis. “But so far I have managed to escape.”
    â€œAnd that is what you must continue to do, my Lord.”
    â€œIs that your opinion or a prediction?” the Marquis wanted to know with a broad smile suffusing his handsome face.
    â€œBoth,” answered Della, “but I expect the real difficulty will come when your heir has four legs!”
    â€œThat certainly will be something of a problem,” agreed the Marquis, “unless like the Emperor Caligula, I marry Juno!”
    Now they were both laughing, but at the same time Della hoped that he would not find it strange that a gypsy seemed educated enough about the Roman Empire to know who Caligula was.
    As they came out of the stable she said,
    â€œThank you a hundred times, my Lord, for showing me your wonderful horses and thank you once again for allowing me to ride in your woods. I think I should